


Real Estate And Relationships

by whoknowsyourfuture



Series: Ineffable Idiots [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, Gen, Or rather the finding of it, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28358247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknowsyourfuture/pseuds/whoknowsyourfuture
Summary: Aziraphale is getting thoroughly fed up with all of these people trying to buy books from his bookstore, so Crowley suggests a alternative way of living. Along the way, they inadvertently become relationship counselors for young couples familiar and not, and maybe uncover something about their own relationship as well.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Idiots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076795
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	1. To Begin Searching For A Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lincyclopedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincyclopedia/gifts).



> Hey guys! This is my Fandom Trumps Hate 2020 work which has been in the works for... a while now. I'll give you three guesses why and the first two don't count. It's been a year. Have some domestic fluff.

“So, angel. What do you think about going someplace… quieter?” Crowley asked. This was prompted by an unnatural upsurge in interest in the bookshop. On a normal day, Aziraphale might have to run off perhaps three customers, between his varied hours and the large snake often seen sunning himself in the shop window.1 On a very busy2 day, he would have to deal with somewhere between ten and twenty people trying to procure one of his books.

In the last week, there had been no fewer than three hundred and seventy-two people who had crossed the threshold of the bookshop.3 For the most part, Aziraphale had managed to… discourage his customers from actually purchasing anything. What he had parted with were mostly duplicates or less-favored tomes. However, there had been some _very_ close calls. For instance, moments before, when Aziraphale had finished a two hour long debate with an extremely insistent book collector who was determined to acquire Aziraphale’s first edition copy of _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_.

Aziraphale was still fuming, despite having been able to run off the collector.

“Yes, I think I’ll close up shop for the day. Terrible business, can’t believe he would even _think_ I could part with that book. It’s near impossible to get a _second_ edition, let alone a _first!_ Disgraceful!” he muttered, flipping the sign on the door to closed and decisively locking the door.4

“Well, yes, let’s do that. The Marksman has a new dish out, might make an early day’ve it and try it. But I rather meant, ah. Moving somewhere quieter. Just for a while,” Crowley said hastily at Aziraphale’s alarmed look. “Just for a bit of a change. A lot’s happened in the last couple of months. Might be nice to take a sort of… vacation.”

Aziraphale was quiet, wordlessly adjusting knickknacks around the ancient cash register. “What do you have in mind?” he asked.

“Somewhere out in the country? Just, somewhere quiet, with room for a library, a garden. Hadn’t thought of anywhere specific, really.” Crowley raked a hand through his hair nervously.5

“I suppose that would be pleasant. Goodness knows we’ve been in London for, oh, I don’t remember exactly how long. But it’s been a very long while! A change in scenery might do the both of us some good.” Aziraphale glared balefully at a young couple who were peering into the shop. He pointed firmly at the ‘CLOSED’ sign and they turned away.

“Well, we could find a realtor today and start looking. See if there’s anything that stands out.” The idea was growing on Crowley.

“Will they still be open?”

“It’s barely two in the afternoon, angel. Some of them are just getting back from a long lunch.”

* * *

“Oh, this is quite good! I’ll admit, I wasn’t too sure about it at first, a tad avaunt-garde for my tastes, but the chef really has the tastes balanced quite cleverly. Are you certain you don’t want any?” Aziraphale carefully speared a portion of his dessert with his fork and held it across the table towards Crowley.

The two had spent a busy afternoon visiting with realtors across London. Crowley had immediately vetoed several realtors, some simply from their webpages (“They’re more on my side of things, Angel.”)6. Eventually, they had happened upon a realtor they both liked7, _and_ who had a few likely properties available for them to visit. Their realtor was booked out til the end of the week, but they would be able to look at properties next week.

“I’m fine, Angel.”

“You really should try more foods. There’s so much variation available nowadays, it’s delightful!8”

Crowley quietly thought that it was far more delightful to see Aziraphale’s reactions to food than to experience it himself, before flushing and taking a sip of his wine.

“Do you want to go back to the bookshop after this or to the apartment?”

“Oh, I have a good vintage I found tucked away in a corner this morning, if you’re in the mood for more wine. I must have misplaced it when I was reorganizing the Dickens last year.”

“Sounds perfect, Angel.”

Crowley flagged down the waiter as Aziraphale finished eating.

* * *

“We’re being followed,” Crowley muttered. They were about halfway back to the bookshop and he had felt a presence behind him since the last street.

“Yes, I noticed. They’re not particularly subtle.9”

“Should we keep on to the bookshop or let them catch up here?”

“I’d rather not risk my books again, especially since I don’t think Adam would restore them this time.”

“All right then. Oi, you! What’re you doing stalking around?”

Crowley had turned and yelled at what appeared to be a young couple out on a casual stroll. Coincidentally, this also happened to be the young couple who had been outside Aziraphale’s shop earlier. And by happenstance, they had also eaten dinner at the same restaurant that Aziraphale and Crowley had so recently left. Of course, neither of those things were what had caught their attention; rather, it was the somewhat sloppily suppressed angelic aura that emanated from the pair.

They startled, looking up guiltily, and stopped.

“Our apologies, we just, well. We had a few questions that we hoped you might be willing to answer,” the shorter one said.

“About what?” Crowley asked, wary.

“Look, could we talk more privately about this? We don’t intend any harm, we just want a bit of help,” the taller one burst out, stepping forward. Their companion tugged at their coat, hissing quietly.

“We want their help, you could be a bit more polite!”

“Either they’re going to help or they’re not. We’ve already been gone for a while, we need to get some answers quickly.”

“This won’t help-”

Aziraphale stepped closer to them, squinting. “Harahel? Is that you?”

The smaller angel sputtered. “What- well, yes, but- How did-”

Aziraphale beamed. “It was a bit hard to recognize you without Hasdiel around, but I got there! How is your library going? Oh my, I’m terribly sorry, you’ve come to visit and I’m being a terrible host! Come, the shop’s not far. We can get settled and talk there!”

“Angel, what if they’re not here for just a chat?”

“Nonsense Crowley, I’ve known Harahel since they were a fledgling, they’re a good sort. Knows how to treat books properly. Everything will be just fine,” Aziraphale soothed him, patting Crowley on the arm. “And if not, they know just how seriously I take my books.”

Harahel winced.

* * *

1And a few keep away wards. Primarily miracle-based, but there were also a few demonic sigils thrown in nowadays.

2Bad.

3Crowley had counted. Aziraphale insisted that there had been more, but Crowley had been keeping track of the number of people who came in for several weeks beforehand.

4He had learned his lesson about immediately locking the door to his flat after closing. At least, for the moment.

5He really hadn’t. London had been a central part of their lives since before it was even Londominium. He wasn’t exactly sure where else there was to live. But this little place, with a library and a garden? Well, putting a date on exactly how long he had been thinking about it _would_ be telling.

6At one point, Crowley had been rather pleased with the return on investment of corrupting a few realtors when the real estate market was just becoming A Thing, but it had rapidly spiraled out of control. As many things had during his existence, this was now coming back to bite him.

7And hadn’t sold their soul to Hell.

8Crowley had heard this comment five hundred and eighty-seven times to date, beginning in Rome during 41 AD when they had, in fact, visited Petronius’s restaurant to try the oysters. Aziraphale had been thrilled, but Crowley had been taken aback by the texture.

9Said the angel who had once invoked light by saying “Let there be light” in front of someone who had certainly not known that he was an angel.


	2. Unexpected Houseguests May Drop By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

“Angel, are you _completely_ sure about this?” Crowley fretted lowly as they walked ahead of the younger angels. “I know you say you’ve known the one-”

“Harahel.”

“Right, whatever. But are you _sure?_ ”

“My dear, I would not knowingly but you into danger unless it was completely unavoidable,” Aziraphale soothed him. “Everything will be fine.”

“But-”

“Hush. We’re nearly there.”

As they turned the last corner, a commotion became visible right in front of Aziraphale’s shop. In the same moment, Crowley groaned and Harahel yelped in alarm. The source of the trouble was another angel and demon pair, who were certainly not getting along so well as the pair that regularly inhabited the bookshop.

“Hasdiel!”

“Aestiroth!”

Crowley and Harahel shouted at the same time, surging towards the pair. Crowley reached them first and grabbed the demon by the ear, pulling him away from the angel as Harahel flung themselves in front of the other angel, who looked all but identical to them.

“What are you doing, picking fights with an angel? That’s how you get smote, brat!” Crowley shook the demon slightly.

“Did not!” the demon exclaimed. “I’s just standing ‘ere, mindin’ my own business when tha’ bloody pigeon showed up, feathers all ruffled!”

“What business does the likes of _you_ have here?” the new angel burst out, ducking out from behind their sibling. “Everyone knows this is _Aziraphale’s_ shop, why don’t you go tempt innocents somewhere else!”

“I wasn’ gonna tempt no one! What’s wrong with a demon wantin’ a good book every now an’ again?”

“That’s enough, both of you. Hasdiel, I expect better of you than accosting strangers, no matter how odd they may seem to you.” Hasdiel subsided, looking cowed. “Crowley, given your reaction, I believe you are familiar with this demon?”

“Yeah, mentored the brat a while back. This is Aestiroth. Aestiroth, this is the Principality Aziraphale. Don’t know the other three.”

“Harahel, Hasdiel, and Nanael, Crowley.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you two done?”

“Birdy started it.”

“I don’t care who started it, I’m ending it, brat. If you’ll both be civil, we should take this inside. Lucky we don’t already have police called on us with the racket you both were making.”

* * *

Aziraphale and Crowley’s experience with young beings was not limited to raising Warlock. Both of them had been called upon, in different ways, to teach the next generation, so to speak.1

Heaven was a big proponent of group learning, ensuring that every fledgling received the same base of education. However, this did mean that the curriculum was rather… concrete.2 This meant that after the first thousand years or so, even the most enthusiastic teachers among the angels had grown very bored of teaching any new fledglings. There was quite a market in trading teaching duties for literally anything else.

Of course, no one had told Aziraphale that.

Instead, on one of his rare in-person reports in Heaven, one of the trainers on duty had simply grabbed him and told him to teach the fledglings. It had gone relatively smoothly. Aziraphale was rather fond of imparting knowledge, just not of letting it go entirely. All the same, he was mostly kept as a last resort, as his teaching style was very different from the accepted methods in Heaven and his erstwhile students always tended to ask strange and difficult questions afterwards.3

Hell, on the other hand, had a much more hit or miss approach to teaching baby demons. Whenever a baby demon emerged from wherever it was baby demons came from4, they were assigned one adult demon as a ‘mentor’. Mostly, this meant the demon took very good care to avoid being near any young demons, and the majority of new demons never met their ‘mentor’ and had to figure things out for themselves.

This was not the case with Crowley. Oh, he griped about babysitting duty with the best of them, but he invariably tracked down his assigned mentee and drug them around with him for a year or ten, depending. He secretly rather enjoyed the task, so long as his mentee wasn’t so clingy that he had to avoid Aziraphale for the duration of their training. Unsurprisingly, the death and discorporation rates of his mentees was very low compared to everyone else, and so an enterprising higher up in the Training department of Hell had put him back into the training pool well before it was technically his turn. Several dozen times.5

That being said, they knew the younger entities fairly well, and had also known the other was teaching younger angels or demons, respectively. However, the gossip mills in Heaven and Hell had evidently not caught up with _everything_ that happened during the Apocadidn’t, as questions burst from mouths as soon as the door to Aziraphale’s shop closed.

“What’re you doin’ round angels, Crowley?”

“Why did you defend that demon, Aziraphale?”

“Yes, I was wondering why you seemed so close earlier.”

“Enough!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “One at a time, if you please. And we still haven’t heard what help you two wanted, or why Aestiroth or Hasdiel ended up in front of my shop.” While he kept a kindly, polite smile on his face, his eyes showed just how close he was to losing his temper. “Harahel, Nanael, you two first.”

Harahel sighed. “Look, Aziraphale, Heaven _let you go._ And you _didn’t_ Fall. No one will tell us why. And there are some of the younger generations who might. Want that knowledge. For. Personal reasons,” they finished, rubbing the back of their head as they turned away.

“I suppose the same question goes for you two as well?” Crowley asked Hasdiel and Nanael. They nodded. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And you, brat. Why’ve you shown up on the doorstep. Same thing?” Aestiroth nodded, but then hesitated. “What else?”

“You survived holy water. How?” he asked, quiet.

Crowley sighed again. “I’m going to need booze for this,” he muttered, heading for Aziraphale’s wine cabinet.

* * *

“The thing you have to understand is, we’ve been on Earth since almost the beginning. Met each other in the Garden. This one,” Crowley gestured fondly at Aziraphale, “Gave his flaming sword away to Adam. What was it angel, it was going to rain and you didn’t want them to be cold?”

“Well, Eve was pregnant, and there were all sorts of dangers outside of the Garden. I couldn’t just leave them defenseless!”

“Right. Anyways, we’ve run into one another pretty often ever since. Started doing miracles and temptations on each other’s behalf, if we were going to be in the area they were scheduled in. Just made sense, really. Then the whole Antichrist thing happened.”

“I still can’t believe that you misplaced the Antichrist.”

“I did not _misplace_ the Antichrist! I put him where I was supposed to put him! It was the nuns who switched up the kids!”

“You spent a decade with a regular human child thinking he was the Antichrist.”

“So did you!”

“You’re the demon! I thought there was some special demonic thing6 they used to make sure Heaven couldn’t find him7!”

“I would have told you about that!”

“I didn’t think your higher ups would have told you if they’d pulled something8!”

“Why not!” Crowley exclaimed indignantly.

“Because it’s Hell, Crowley! They’re not exactly free with information!”

“Neither is Heaven!”

“Exactly!”

Crowley deflated. “Fair enough, Angel.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m sorry for shouting, my dear. And for assuming you didn’t have information instead of checking first.”

“I was shouting too,” Crowley said sheepishly. “It was a logical assumption, and ended up being true in a way. Well, sort of. Maybe? Did we ever figure out how Adam was staying hidden?”

“No, I don’t think we did. Hmm. Well, anyways. By the time the Antichrist was born, we had both pretty well gone native, as Beelzebub put it. We both prefer Earth to Heaven or Hell. I don’t know that we can really explain it? There are just so many little things that happen, that you experience when you’re on Earth for more than a few minutes. Not that many angels spend much time down here anymore,” he mused, a bit sadly.

“Most demons don’t spend all that much time up here either. All quick temptations and a refusal to actually enjoy themselves for even a second. Determined to be miserable. ‘S why I prefer you young’uns,” he said, gesturing with his glass at Aestiroth. “Not so set in your ways you can’t learn and adapt as humans do.”

“Regardless, the attempt at Armageddon went quite poorly, much to our relief. You see, the day the Antichrist was born, we both came to the conclusion that we rather wanted the Earth to stay as it was. For all their faults, humanity has something special. And we didn’t quite think it fair to destroy that simply because a few angels and demons decided it was time.”

“I seem to remember you being a bit more set on the Ineffable Plan.”

“I rather think we ended up fulfilling the Ineffable Plan in the end, don’t you?”

“Don’t be smug,” Crowley groused. “So, we decided to help raise the Antichrist. Balance him out, you know? Angelic influence, Demonic corruption evening the scales. Problem with that was, well…”

“You lost the Antichrist,” Nanael finished, seemingly in awe of their ineptitude.

“Yeah. That.” Crowley studied his glass of wine as though it held the secrets of the universe.9

“Yes, well. One thing led to another and we _did_ manage to find him in the end. Really, he had quite a normal childhood, up to that point. Most likely, that made things go far better than our original plan could have. And he had enough power to back it up.”

“So, did the Antichrist get Heaven and Hell to leave you alone?” Harahel asked.

Aziraphale grimaced. “Ah, well. No. Unfortunately. There was some… dealings with them afterwards where we persuaded them to leave well enough alone. At least for now.”

“Crowley survived holy water. I saw.” Aestiroth said quietly from the corner he’d tucked himself into.

“That was done with a warning from a centuries dead prophetess and a significant amount of built up trust. It’s not something we could teach you,” Aziraphale said regretfully.

“But isn’t there something you could do? I know you hadn’t really been to Heaven for a while, Aziraphale, but things have gotten worse. More constricting, more militant. They even told Harahel that they had to get rid of a whole bunch of their books! They’re the angel of libraries! And the books weren’t even about anything bad!” Hasdiel vented.

“Oh dear! That’s terrible! If you still have them, I can keep them here for you,” Aziraphale told Harahel.

Crowley muttered, “Three guesses what kind of-” before Aziraphale stepped on his foot. When he saw the glare Aziraphale threw at him he sighed and downed the rest of his glass. “Look kids, Heaven and Hell aren’t going to change anytime soon. If you want my advice, try and get some missions on Earth, or an Earth posting. Learn. Make up your own minds about what you want to do. But we can’t really help you act directly against either, if that’s what you were expecting.”

Aziraphale nodded reluctantly. “We can offer you somewhere to stay if you need it, or help figuring out how things work here, but really, Heaven and Hell let us be because we made it more inconvenient for them to try and destroy us than to just ignore us.”

“But you’ll still help us,” Nanael said.

“As best as we can, my dear,” Aziraphale said.

“That goes for you too, brat,” Crowley added. “Anyone starts bothering you, we’ll help.”

“Who needs your help,” Aestiroth muttered, but did not get up to leave.

“Well!” Harahel said brightly. “We’ll just have to see how this goes, then. I’ll bring the books by tomorrow. Thank you for keeping them, I was quite beside myself trying to think of what to do.”

“Harahel! You’re just going to give up, just like that?” Hasdiel shouted.

“No, I’m going to take the advice we were given, and I’m going to decide what _I_ want to do, for once. I’m not giving up, I’m going to find another way,” they said, determined.

Aziraphale and Crowley glanced at each other, each wondering what it was that they had just created.

* * *

1Although this did not translate perfectly to raising human children.

2Or rather, exactly the same.

3As would happen when an angel who eagerly devoured human philosophy and was released on a malleable audience, free to teach.

4Which was not the same method used to create Adam, mind.

5Crowley’s mentees were just better, okay? While none of them had surpassed his staggering number of temptations and commendations, to a demon they outstripped their peers. When asked, Crowley had just muttered something about plants, but when other mentors had been instructed to add plants to their training methods nothing changed.

6Hell rather wished that they had such a thing at hand.

7Aziraphale had briefly thought of this when they decided to be the Antichrist’s godfathers. Then he had dismissed the thought and forgotten all about it until Warlock’s eleventh birthday, when the thought had come roaring back with all the ferocity of an annoyed hippopotamus.

8They wouldn't have.

9It didn’t, but to be fair, Aziraphale and Crowley had been on some benders where they had actually made a decent stab at understanding the universe. Nowhere near Doug Forcett, but closer than most philosophers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyyy 2021! May this year be completely boring. 
> 
> So, this fic is growing. I'm glad I managed to eventually wrangle this chapter away from a depressing ending. Also, I had a sudden burst of inspiration for a sequel. Why, brain, why. Sorry if I sound a bit down, I had A Day at work. Hope ya'll had a good New Year's Eve and will have a better New Year's Day and further.


	3. To Find The Perfect Home May Take Some Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of house hunting, and yet another surprise visitor!

After all the excitement, Aziraphale and Crowley somehow managed to have a quiet weekend. Aziraphale kept the shop’s sign firmly on CLOSED and started sorting through the books, deciding which he would take with him and which he would put in storage. Crowley found various spots of sun and napped. By the time Monday and the first of their house tours rolled around, they let conversations with young angels and demons slip to the back of their minds. Mostly.

And so, they headed to the first house in good cheer.

* * *

“No, that’s horribly designed. Why would we want to live in something that looks like a warehouse?”

* * *

“I realize Americans are getting into a fad about living in ‘tiny houses’ but I assure you, _we_ are not!”

* * *

“You’re telling me the only way to get between the _four_ _stories_ in this house is a half meter wide spiral staircase.”

* * *

“The only gardening space is on the _balcony?”_

* * *

They entered Crowley’s apartment after a long, disappointing day. None of the houses they’d looked at had been even remotely suitable for them to move into right away, and while they could easily remodel1, neither of them particularly wanted to.

“Perhaps there was a reason so many of London’s realtors made deals with your side,” Aziraphale sighed as he collapsed onto the couch. He was particularly dispirited, as his previous experience with real estate began and ended with his shop, which he had walked past one day, fell in love with, and purchased from the owner in quick succession2.

Crowley, on the other hand, had owned several residences, but had usually just gone with a realtor with a demonic pact and settled for whatever came closest to his few needs3.

“Seems likely. I’m sorry angel, I didn’t think finding a place would be difficult. We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” Crowley sank onto the couch next to Aziraphale, trying to act nonchalant about giving up.

“Nonsense, my dear. It’s only been a day! We have a week’s worth of house tours lined up already, there should be something that suits us both in there somewhere.”

“All right, angel.” They sat in companionable silence for a moment, unwinding after the long day of driving and walking through houses. Then Aziraphale sighed and stood up.

“I think I’ll have a spot of tea. Do you want any?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Crowley tipped his head back on the couch and listened to the sounds of Aziraphale bustling in the kitchen. Then, there was a knock at the door, a particularly impatient, familiar one. “I’ll get it, angel!” he called, groaning in annoyance. He yanked open the door, scowling. “What?”

“Can’t I visit my dear old mentor every now and then?” The speaker was a clean-cut figure in a well-fitted suit, with long hair drawn into a neat bun.

“Cut the glamour, I know it's you Erzemon.”

“Aw, but I like this look,” he pouted. Crowley glared at him. Erzemon sighed. “All right, all right.”

He snapped his fingers. The put together look faded into scales scattered across green tinged skin and scraggly feathers threaded through wild hair. “Why do you always ruin my fun.”

“If you don’t learn to manipulate your features through will you’ll have to rely on glamours forever, and those aren’t infallible. Quit trying to take short cuts,” Crowley grumbled at him, waving him inside. “What are you doing here?"

"I said I'm visiting, didn't I?"

"Like I buy that, kid. Why are you here?"

"I heard something interesting about how you survived the holy water," he smirked nonchalantly as he stepped through the door. Crowley growled.

"Oh for- did Aestiroth go straight to you lot? Or did you send him to snoop and report back?"

"I may have suggested it, but it was to everyone. He's the one who took the initiative."

"Right," Crowley groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why did you all have to band together anyways?"

"Oh, we had a good teacher who actually gave a damn about us and made it clear that regular demons were a level or ten below what we were capable of."

"Smart ass."

"Learned from the best."

"Crowley dear, who's that with you?" Aziraphale called from the kitchen.

"Another of my mentees. Erzemon, think I mentioned him to you a couple centuries back."

"Oh, yes, I remember. Would you like a spot of tea, Erzemon?"

"Sure. Thanks," Erzemon said hesitantly, eyes wide. As Crowley led him to the living room he hissed, " _Why_ is there an angel in your flat?"

"Didn't Aestiroth tell you _all_ about how close we were?" Crowley grinned.

"He mentioned- but- I didn't think it was like that!"

"Like what?"

"He's in your _flat_! Late at _night_!"

"Don't be so shocked, where else would he be4?"

" _Anywhere else_!"

"Here we are then!" Aziraphale said brightly as he carried the tea tray in. He ignored Erzemon's barley stifled shriek and set the tray down, handing one cup to Crowley and picking up his own.

"I didn't know how you took your tea, dear, so I brought out some options. Do say if it doesn't suit."

Erzemon visibly gathered himself and nodded silently.

"Thanks, angel," Crowley said.

"Of course."

Crowley watched Erzemon for a moment as he sipped his tea, then set his cup down. "So why didn't you believe what Aestiroth told you?"

Erzemon flicked a glance at Aziraphale, then back to Crowley. When Crowley frowned, he sighed.

"It just seemed too unbelievable. An angel? You always told us to keep away if we ever ran into one. To hear that you'd been consorting with one since the Beginning? It seemed mad. And the rest just got worse and worse."

"Erzemon," Crowley sighed, "you forget that I was an angel once. So was every demon who Fell, which is the majority of Hell's higher ups. Just because everyone had a diametrically opposed difference of opinion doesn't erase that we came from the same place. And I _also_ told you to stay away from Hell's higher ups. When I was training you, if you had glanced at them wrong they could have ended you with less effort than it took to blink. It wouldn't take them that much more energy _now_.5"

"But you're so... close. Why?" Erzemon said plaintively.

"We've known each other a very long time, dear. I think it would have been stranger if we hadn't grown close," Aziraphale said gently. "Now drink your tea."

Erzemon did.

* * *

"From your stories, I thought your first child would be a little more collected," Aziraphale teased as they got ready for bed.

Erzemon had eventually grown more comfortable being around Aziraphale, but didn't quite relax fully by the time they had explained things to his satisfaction. He had certainly had more questions, but hadn't asked them, and Crowley wasn't in the mood to be interrogating upstart mentees.

"First off, if anyone gets claim to being my first child, it's a plant, not a baby demon.6 Second, he's not my kid, he's my mentee."

"Yes dear. I believe you," Aziraphale said, smiling. Crowley huffed at him.

"Anyways, he's got reason to be scared of angels. Nearly got killed on one of his first trips to Earth by an angel. Never exactly got out of him what all happened, I just know it must have been a fairly young one since he got away."

Aziraphale's smile vanished. "I'm sorry, Crowley."

"Wasn't me that almost got killed."

"No, but his death would have hurt you deeply. I saw how excited you were when you heard you were getting a mentee."

"Baby demons get killed, s'what happens, angel. Sometimes by angels, most of the time by other demons. I knew it was likely."

"But it still would have hurt you."

"Yeah," Crowley rasped.

"I supposed you doubled down on the 'avoid angels' message after that."

"Yeah. It was... it was really close, angel. I couldn't let them come that close again."

"Yet, Aestiroth doesn't seem to have the same aversion."

Crowley snorted. "Oh, he was scared, all right. Brat just hides it well. And he's probably the one who knew the most about you, honestly. Probably thought you'd save him, too. He gets silly romanticized ideas like that."

"Well, I would have," Aziraphale said reasonably. At Crowley's gobsmacked look he huffed. "I would! I would for any of your mentees, Crowley!"

"But he was the one picking the fight-"

"As if that's not what you do all the time."

“I do not!”

“Crowley.”

“Fine. I tend to pick fights. But not ones that could get me _killed!_ ”7

“Yes dear.”

“Don’t patronize me, you’re just as bad.”

“I most certainly am _not!_ ” Aziraphale said, affronted. Crowley just grinned.

“Better get some sleep, angel. We’ve got another long day of house hunting again tomorrow. Maybe there’ll be something better.”

Aziraphale huffed as he slid under the covers. “Me, pick fights! I _never!_ ” He continued to grumble under his breath until Crowley kicked him and told him to be quiet, when he finally subsided.

* * *

The next day of house hunting was not better. At. _All._

1Or miracle.

2For an exorbitant amount, but Aziraphale had rather lost track of how much things should cost several centuries ago and also had quite a bit of money stashed away in various nooks and crannies and banks that he mostly ignored. Actually owing the shop had helped quite a bit, as doing things such as taxes helped him to remember exactly how much he had spent on which books on a yearly basis and how much he would likely spend over the next year. He also wasn’t particularly good at explaining _where_ he was getting the money from other than ‘inheritance’, which had prompted quite a few conspiracy theories from those who had to look over his taxes _._ The leader in the pool was an eccentric family who made their fortune from stolen diamonds, settled down with a bookshop, and kept naming their sons the same thing. The long shot was that he was an immortal who was bad at giving good reasons for how he got his money while selling very few books.

3Intimidating to look at, with space and sufficient sunlight for plants.

4Erzemon, as a made demon, had far more scruples of such things than Crowley, and far different ideas of what they meant.

5Crowley was correct in that it wouldn't take much effort, but most of his trainees were safer than he thought. One specific higher up had plans, and woe betide anyone who thought to thin out the subjects of those plans before she was ready. No matter what nonsense had gone down between sides.

6There was, in fact, a very old tree that had long since counted itself as just that.

7Perhaps if you excluded the entirety of the Apocadidn’t. Even, so, perhaps not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm going to be uploading the rest of this fic pretty soon, so I'll just do a short note here. Got really stuck on the actual 'visiting houses bit so I ended up just nixing that for the most part and sticking to character interactions.

**Author's Note:**

> So, 2020's been A Year. For my established readers, I went into a bit of my year in the last CNSFTAHS update. Everything was going okay, I was gonna try NaNo, and then my workload increased exponentially in November and has not slowed down. Overtime has been good for my bank account, but not much else. Also, I got kittens! Send me an ask on tumblr if you're interested in pics. Once this is all posted I'll start back up on my other stuff, I have noticed what you all are interested in on the poll. :D I don't know exactly how much time I'll have to write, with the aforementioned overtime and also I'm starting a Masters program in January, but I'm going to set aside a block of time every day to just write. 
> 
> I hope everyone is having some happy holidays and keeping safe. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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